


Elliot

by clowniecindy



Category: Cinderella (1950)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowniecindy/pseuds/clowniecindy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Elliot wanted to do was escape from his step-mother. His fairy godmother was inclined to help... in a way he wasn't quite expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!   
> This will be my first story on this site. :) I came over from adultfanfiction and was recommended this site by one of my amazing reviewer.   
> I do hope you enjoy the first two chapters of Elliot! I will upload these as weekly as possible.  
> Thank you!
> 
> -Clowniecindy/Lollers

 

 

The tragedy came in the form of a small, white envelope with a maroon seal.

Twelve year old Elliot was quite enjoying the lovely weather when he heard the sound of hooves upon the cobblestone pathway. Believing that his father was returning from his travels, he turned from his ginger foal, green eyes lit with excitement and expectation. However, the lad's expression quickly fell as he saw a member of the Kingdom's Watch trot forward on his uniformed, white stallion.

Eyeballing the bright purple plume upon both rider and horse's head and the near matching purple and gold lace harness and outfit, the young boy walked forward, meeting the messenger half way. Settling the horse brush onto the ledge of the fountain, he stared curiously at the rider.

Taking off his hat, the Watch cleared his throat, brushing a hand through his dark hair. Finally, he dismounted, digging within his saddlebag for the delivery. The letter was handed to Elliot quietly, accompanied with a solemn, pitying look.

Elliot didn't want to open it.

"What is this?" He demanded quietly, not bothering to look down at the envelope.

"A letter." The young blonde gave him a dry stare. The rider shifted nervously.

"Yes, I know it's a letter," he stated impatiently, not realizing the letter was now wrinkling within his grasp. "I want to know the contents."

The messenger suddenly looked rather uncomfortable, looking anywhere but towards the boy. He glanced up, saw something, then looked back down. Elliot had the suspicion that his step mother, Lady Tremaine, was watching from the window on the second floor; she was always there, watching Elliot tend the horses or play in the courtyard, gaze cold and void of any feelings towards her stepson.

"Maybe I should hand this to your mother." Elliot tensed.

"She's not my mother," he snapped, holding the letter closer to himself. When the messenger continued to look out of sorts and unsure, Elliot allowed his eyes to fall to the envelope.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted it slightly, studying it, before slowly opening it. His fingers trembled, making a jagged, shameful job of tearing it open. The Kingdom's Watchman, obviously uncomfortable, inclined his head first to Elliot, than to Lady Tremaine, who continued to watch from her window, before mounting his horse once more and guiding out of the courtyard and back down the narrow path.

The letter was short and simple; they didn't waste time with pleasantries and sugarcoating. His father was dead. He had been thrown from his horse as he was on his way to the next town to sell his merchandise. His head had made impact with a rather ill-placed stone and killed him nearly instantly. They were sorry for the loss and offered their condolences.

Elliot felt his knees give out. The world quickly jumped up to meet him.

 


	2. Morning Routine

_Five years later…_

"Elliot? Elliot? Elliot, are you listening?!"

Huffing a bit under his breath, Elli gave a nasty glare towards the pipes hanging on the wall.  _It's not like they expect me to respond back through the pipes…_  he thought dryly. The last time he attempted it, he received a scolding for being lazy.

So, instead, he simply waited for his youngest step-sister, Anastasia, to finish shrieking. She was a few months older than him, though she felt it necessary to pinch whoever pointed out that fact. Elliot, as a child, had received many pinches.

Arms deep into the basin, submerged to his elbows in water, he continued to scrub the pots. He had to do it quickly, before the food got cold. Of course, logic would be to bring the food to them first and then was the dishes but Drizella would have none of that; this household simply could  _not_  tolerate sloppiness.

"Elliot, you lazy imp, I need my bath drawn  _now_. I have lessons with Mr. Scott this morning and I simply can't go another second without it. Are you listening, Elliot?  _Now!"_  The blonde nodded his head absently, as though Anastasia could actually see his non-verbal response. Placing the pot on the counter to dry, he quickly moved over to the trays.

Years of trial and error had perfected his ability to balance three heavily loaded trays. It was among the many things he had learned since the day of that dreadful missive. Oh, Lady Tremaine was in all sorts of tears, mucking up her handkerchief and excusing her behavior. She held the ceremony, played hostess to many sympathetic friends, and easily gained their hearts, trust, and loyalty. And, as she worked her magic on the neighbors and townsfolk alike, Elliot quickly became the topic of disdain.

Within a fortnight, he was considered unsuited for head of the house and that, being the only boy in the household, should be compliant and helpful to the ladies residing with him. Lady Tremaine played it off as unnecessarily, slipping in a comment here and there about the state of the mansion, quickly riling her crowd up. And so, Elliot began to take up certain duties to avoid their wrath. Over the months, the workload grew and grew. He had quit horseback riding lessons. He abandoned his friends. He had no time for such trivial things; by the time he was finished for the day, he would pass out immediately and wake up just as tired.

It had occurred to him that he  _was_  doing too much. And so, nearly a year after the death of his father, had confronted Lady Tremaine about it. She listened to his protest, his demands, and his claims against her coolly, her cold expression quite unruffled and undisturbed. When he had finished and simply stood there, waiting for her to retaliate, she stood and walked towards the door.

Just before exiting the room completely, she turned around. And she smiled. Of course, the smile was anything but warm and kind and it reeled Elliot into shock.

"My dear Elliot," she cooed, dark eyes glinting from the setting sun peeking through the curtains; the room was slowly darkening. "You may run. You may try to go to the furthest reaches of this land. But this kingdom," the hand not resting on the doorknob gestured smoothly towards the direction of the town. "This town, they will assure you are safely returned to my estate. You see, ever since my husband,  _your father's_ , tragic death, you simply couldn't handle it. You broke down, crumbled. Since that day, you've slowly descended into your own insanity." Her cold smile soon turned vicious. "There isn't a soul in this town that would aid you; it is out of the kindness of my heart that I house you. You'd be delivered upon my steps before the sun rises." And with that, she left room, her robes drifting behind her.

Eyes darkening at the memory of that day, Elliot decided to skip going to Lady Tremaine's room first and visit the next room over; Drizella. Quietly, he opened the door, skillfully keeping the trays from tipping over, before walking through the darkness. He quickly located the end table and placed a tray upon the surface, before turning towards the curtain. Using his now free hand, careful not to upset the balance of the two trays slightly stacked in his other hand, he opened up the blinds on the right side of the bed; a groan sounded from the bed.

"You have violin lessons today, Drizella." He said rather loudly, lavishing in the way she clutched her pillow tighter to her head. He suppressed a wicked smile, walking around the bed to open up the other curtain; he relished in doing so, a smile twisting his lips slightly at the growl.

"Go away, Elliot, or I swear I'll set Lucifer on your precious mice." She snapped.

Elliot's smile quickly dropped.

"Alright. Enjoy your morning. I'll be sure to tell Lady Tremaine about your plans." He said, walking towards the door.

A pillow struck his back, causing him to stumble forward out of surprise. He quickly grabbed hold of the other tray, now holding one in each hand, before turning back to the bed. Drizella was sitting up, dark brown hair hanging a mess around her shoulders. Her sharp face and small eyes had always reminded Elliot of the rats he's seen running around in the cellar.

" _I'll_  be telling mother about your plans to lie." She seethed. Elliot opened his mouth to deny lying, but quickly snapped it shut. What was the point?

Shrugging, he turned back around, stepping around the pillow, before going to the next room over.

Anastasia was pacing her room when he entered. Stopping in mid stride, she leveled him with a glare. "Where have you been?!" she snapped, red hair a curly mess around her shoulders. She sneered at the trays before gesturing impatiently at her bedside. "I don't care. Just hurry up and draw my bath. Quickly, now!"

The blonde quickly complied, placing the tray on the bed, before turning on his heels towards the door. He would first drop off the last tray before fetching water from the well and heating it up; it would take at least a half hour before it was ready to bathe in. Elliot didn't feel inclined to point it out. Exiting the room, he traveled slowly down the hall to the room nearest to the stairs.

All too soon, he arrived at the door and, after taking a deep breath, entered. The room was dark; only the light spilling in from the hallway outlined the slight bump in the bed and the glowing, yellow eyes of Lucifer, the cat. Ignoring the glowering cat, he walked quickly to the bed, softly; he found it best to try to leave the room as quickly as possible, without waking up Lady Tremaine.

Placing the tray on the table, he turned to leave, when the damn cat let out a lusty yawn, followed by a yowl. The figure on the bed shifted, causing the boy to tense.

"Elliot." The blonde quickly glared at the cat, who seemed to grin back, before turning around to face the mistress of the house; he kept his head bowed. Now sitting up, the aging woman reached over for her tea. Lucifer jumped from his tiny bed onto hers, settling down beside her legs. Sipping the tea, she began. "Were you not planning to wake me?"

Elliot winced. "I didn't want to-"

"Silence." Her voice was sharp, quickly cutting off the boy's explanation. Settling the tea on the table, she ran a hand through Lucifer's fur. "We have a guest coming over to the estate today. Now, let me see… There's the large carpet in the main hall… Clean it. And the windows upstairs… wash them." She paused, picking up her tea again to sip. Before it reached her lips, however, she glanced up. "And the tapestries… and the draperies… "

Elliot's eyes widened a fraction, "But I just finished them-"

"Do them again." Lady Tremaine cut off sharply, focusing her cold eyes on Elliot. His protests were quickly swallowed.

"And don't forget the garden. Then scrub the terrace, sweep the halls and the stairs, clean the chimneys. And of course there's the mending and the sewing and the laundry." Finally, she took a sip of the tea, before smiling coldly into the brew. Settling it back on the table, she spoke again. "Oh yes…there's one more thing. Make sure Lucifer gets his bath." Elliot eyed the cat; of all the duties listed, this was the one he dreaded the most. Lucifer never gave into a bath without a full fight, claws, teeth, and all. The strict woman stared at the blonde expectantly.

Inclining his head, Elliot didn't look up. "Yes, Lady Tremaine." He quickly backed out of the room.

He couldn't possibly finish all the chores before the guest came. However, he knew if he didn't try his earnest, his step mother would surely find a way to deliver her sense of punishment. He quickly walked down the hall.  _First, the bath…_


	3. Another Missive

_I need to escape…_

Staring grimly at the bubbles on the floor, Elliot dumped his rag back into the bucket before wringing out the water.

For years, he had dreamed about running away, leaving the estate, the town, the kingdom behind. And he's even attempted it. However, his step-mother was true to her word. Each and every time, he would be spotted by a friend of Lady Tremaine and they would alert the guards. He would be handed to Lady Tremaine on the doorsteps and she would give them gracious words and offer them tea. The week following, the corridors seemed amuck with dirt, every dish would be used within a day, and laundry would increase tenfold.

Of course, Elliot hadn't given up hope; no, he tried time and time again. Soon, the whole kingdom knew of the 'heartsick child's' escapades. And slowly, his attempts for freedom dwindled down. It had been a little more than a year since his last runaway. He planned on trying just once more, but the moment just hadn't presented itself.

Plopping the rag on the floor, he scrubbed at the already pristine cleaned tile angrily. He was so engaged with his furious scrubbing that, when the loud knock sounded from the door, he jumped up hastily, knocking his pale of water over in the process.

Clucking his tongue, he gloomily stared down at his drenched pant leg, before looking towards the door. _Mr. Scott shouldn't be here this soon…_ frowning, Elliot walked forward, opening the door to peer at the visitor. He instantly paled.

It was a messenger with a letter.

Staring warily at the purple and gold outfitted Watchman, he was only slightly relieved to note that it wasn't the same fellow from five years ago. The man peered through the door, taking in the ratty attire of Elliot, before looking past his thin frame into the rest of the house.

"Is… Lady Tremaine at home? I have urgent letters for her and her daughters."

Elliot stared at him blankly, considering whether he should allow the man inside, simply take the letters, or close the door in his face. Closing the door held the most appeal.

Muscles tensing to shut the door, he nearly moved, when a voice sounded behind him.

"Elliot? Whatever are you doing?" Cringing, Elli allowed his hand to fall from the handle, stepping back. Anastasia stared down at the messenger, curious, before grinning. Picking up the hem of her skirts, she raced down the stairs. "Mother would be crossed if you turned this gentleman away." She scolded.

"She would be crossed if she saw you dash down those stairs…" he countered under his breath, stepping further back to allow the man in. The Watchman gave him a hesitant look, before stepping through the threshold with his regained haughtiness.

"Pardon me, ma'am. I have important letters from the castle. Care to show me to Lady Tremaine?" Anastasia look nearly giddy with excitement over the mention of the castle. Elliot suspected the only thing that kept her from squealing was his quip about her conduct.

Smothering her grin, she folded her hands in front of her and turned to smile sweetly at Elliot. His eyes narrowed. "Elli," she began, causing a gruesome shiver to run down his spine. He was only Elli when someone they wanted to impress was nearby. "Show this gentleman to the study room; Drizella and Mother are currently in there, waiting for Mr. Scott's arrival. Afterwards, fetch some scones and tea for the man; he must be parched from the ride over."

The sugar-sweet voice rubbed Elliot in such a way, he couldn't help but to answer back. "But you didn't say _please_." Anastasia's eyes widened momentarily in shock before narrowing in apprehension; she gave a quick glance out of the corner of her eyes at the messenger, her smile strained. The blonde knew his chores were going to be a bit harder to accomplish for the next few days, if the evil glint in her eyes were anything to go by. He just hope that she wouldn't stoop to leaving a window open during a rainy day or guiding the pigs indoors.

Deciding to just comply before things turned for the worse, Elliot inclined his head, turning to the side to gesture towards the grand staircase. "Follow me, sir." Walking forward, he didn't bother to ensure the messenger was following, but the heavy clod of his boots upon the floor was audible throughout the quiet house. Elli fumed at the thought of cleaning the floors again because of the clouts insistence on handing the missives to Lady Tremaine in person.

He knocked on the door lightly. Balancing the tray of tea and scones, Elliot stepped away from the door and waited for the response, glancing briefly down the hall towards the door at the sound of the front door closing. He frowned; did the messenger leave already? Not that he could really blame him… it had been nearly a half an hour since he showed him to the study before rushing away to prepare the scones.

"Enter."

Steeling himself from shrinking at the cold voice of his step-mother, he opened the door, casting an eye around the room. Anastasia and Drizella were currently clustered together, clucking back and forth about the prince, the letters, and dresses. Lady Tremaine was perched on a lush chair in a shadowed corner, eyes nearly glowing as she stared at the letter. The messenger was nowhere in sight.

Stepping in, he walked over to a small table near the middle of the room, placing the tray upon it and immediately began pouring three cups of tea; the fourth, he would have to take back to the kitchen. It seemed, however, no one was interested in reprimanding him for his tardiness, not that it was his fault anyways. Baking fresh scones for a simple messenger couldn't possibly be ready in a few minutes after his arrival.

"Mother, oh mother, we haven't a single dress to wear!" Drizella cried out in dismay, her voice teetering on the edge of panicked squeaking.

"Oh, why couldn't they have given these to us sooner? The ball is _tomorrow_. I can't possibly have a new dress tailored by then. Why, with the rags I own, the prince isn't going to spare me a single thought!" Anastasia nearly did cry. Elliot rolled his eyes heavenward. No dresses? Rags? Then what had he been washing, ironing, mending, and sewing over the years. He bit his tongue from letting out a dry remark; no, speaking now would do no good. _Especially with Lady Tremaine here…_ he thought warily, eyeballing her.

"Girls," the lady purred coldly, standing up. Lucifer slinked out of the shadows from beneath the chair, sitting by her feet with an air of arrogance that Elliot was positive cats weren't supposed to possess. "calm yourselves. That is no way for a lady to act." Finally, the icy gaze settled on Elliot, acknowledging his presence in the room. "Have you finished scrubbing the floors? Sweeping the chimneys? Washing the drapes?"

The blonde opened his mouth to retort. "How could I? I've been busy-" he stopped his angry response midsentence as Lady Tremaine's fine eyebrow rose to her hairline. He dropped his gaze, biting his inner cheek. "I'll get right to it, madam…" he muttered, backing out of the room with the extra cup in his hand. His ears burned at the snickering coming from his step sisters.

Closing the door gently, Elliot leaned against the hard wood for a moment, listening intently.

"Mother, we must send for the seamstress. I _need_

a new dress." Drizella whined.

"Alright, my sweet angels. I'll send for Ms. Tots." A pause. "Girls, Mr. Scott will be here any moment. Stop this foolishness and begin voice exercises."

Deciding nothing of interest was to be said, Elliot pushed away from the door, heading towards the stairs to finish the floor. However, his mind raced at the thought of the ball. Oh, he had no intentions in attending. Lady Tremaine and the girls, however, seemed to have their hearts set on it. They would be gone for a numerous amount of hours tomorrow, along with half the kingdom.

_That will be my chance…_

A grin crept onto Elliot's face. He couldn't wait for the ball.


	4. Foiled

The ball couldn't come soon enough.

Elliot was worked harder than usual, keeping up with his daily chores and playing servant for Ms. Tots. Not that he blamed her; no, the kind, twinkle-eyed old lady was hard to hold a grudge against. She was just passionate with what she did; sewing.

By the time noon had rolled around the next day, he had finished his usually duties and had just brought lunch up to Ms. Tots and his step sister's. He was looking forward to relaxing the rest of the day, counting it good fortune that his family was too tied up in their own affairs to pile on the task.

It was too good to be true.

Ms. Tots made good use of him, sending him for thread, ordering him to hold the cloth, lifting the hem slightly for Anastasia so she could work on the trimming. And, when he wasn't assisting the aging seamstress, he was fetching drinks and snacks or working on the early dinner. Soon enough, the dresses were finished. The girls nearly tripped over themselves rushing out the room to fix their hair and makeup.

"Girls," Lady Tremaine chided calmly, coming up the stairs. Her gaze swept over their dresses to Ms. Tots before back again to her daughters; she didn't spare Elliot a glance. Relieved, Elli turned and began to creep away down the hall. "It's about time for the ball to begin. If you don't want to miss your opportunity, make haste."

The girls' shrieks of anxiety and their fleeting steps sounded faintly down the hall as Elliot made his way towards the attic stairs. Turning a corner, he went down the dark corridor, before rounding another and arriving to the foot of the stairs. Quickly, he mounted them, reaching his door. With a quick glance around, he ushered inside.

His mice skittered about the room, startled and nervous. He didn't have a particular fondness for the rodents but Anastasia and Drizella didn't seem to like them and that was always a reason to keep something around. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he leaned against the door. He was really going to do it. He just may be able to pull this off.

Giddiness settled in his stomach as Elliot stared at the mice sniff around his room. His blue eyes trailed from the bed to the window, watching the rapidly darkening sky. He had a full view of the castle from his room; at the current moment, it was lit up as though darkness didn't dare to intrude on the ball.

Straightening his shoulders, he went over to the other side of his bed, before bending down and tugging something from underneath it. A worn knapsack dragged from underneath, bulging with his clothes and mementos from his father. His boots, not once worn by him, settled next to them; he had traded his pocket watch for the used, scuffed boots, in hopes that one day, he would need them for the outside world. Within the estate, he was confined to wearing slippers.  _Those simply won't do…_

Footsteps alerted his ears as he was checking the contents within his bag. Surprised, Elliot had just dropped the bag behind the bed when the door was open. No one ever came to his room.

Lady Tremaine didn't even bother to knock. Opening the door, she swept into the small area with her self-important air, taking in the room from over her smug nose. Elliot felt irritation build in him rapidly. This was  _his_  room, the only place that he could truly be alone and in peace.  _How dare she._

"Elliot, what is with the insolent expression?" She nearly snapped.  _Nearly._  Lady Tremaine would never lose her temper.

The blonde quickly smothered his glare, feeding her an expressionless face; he wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing how much this little action really bothered him. Eyes twinkling in malice, Lady Tremaine eyed his bed, noting the slightly rumbled spot where his bag had been, before looking over towards the window. "I had forgotten about the view from this room…" she murmured coolly, staring for a moment at the brightly lit castle. Elliot shifted uncomfortably.

"Is there something you need, Madam?" he gritted out, gazing hard at her. She glanced over, lips tightening with displease; she obviously didn't like being rushed. Walking forward, she laid a hand over the back of a scarred wooden chair, running her hand back and forth over the rough surface. Removing it, she rubbed her fingers together, as though expecting it for dust, grimaced, before wiping the rest on a handkerchief she produced from the folds of her robes.

"About the ball tonight," she began in a murmur, going from each object and examining it, as though she were truly interested in the state of the furniture. Of course, Elliot wasn't fooled; his body was tensed in waiting, knowing Lady Tremaine was just dragging out her deed. "It's quite a shame we can't find attire for you. But, as you may know," with this, her lips twitched up into a small, wicked smile. "you're too ill, mentally, to leave the estate; no telling what you may do." Finally, she circled back to the door. Elliot begin to relax a little bit; had she come up there to inform him he wasn't allowed to go to the ball? Was that all? He shoved away the urge to slump in relief.

Reaching the door, she stepped slightly out of the threshold, before turning around. A key was now being held within her hand. Elli's eyes grew wide as he realized what she planned to do. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, you don't think I intend you to have free range of the estate without my presence, do you? So predictable, Elliot." She cooed, slowly opening the door.

Elliot was frozen for a second, before he finally gained sense of his legs. "Madam… Lady Tremaine, madam wait!" The door shut with an audible click. Elliot had just reached the door as he heard the key scraping into the lock, turning it, sealing entry or exit. Elliot's hand still reached out to try the knob; it met resistance. Allowing his hand hit the wood with a smack of frustration, he leaned his forehead against the cool wood, teeth grinding to keep pent up rage from boiling out. He heard the distinct sound of steps follow the stairway down.

* * *

The ball was to happen tonight.

Clenching his jaw, Prince Charles paced the large and lavishly decorative room impatiently, stopping every now and then to glare spitefully at the guards near the doors. Oh, he could of easily commanded them to step away; they would kiss his feet if he so wished it. However, due to the  _chain of command_ , his guards were ordered by the King,  _his_  father, to not let their prince leave the room. As if Charles would escape his duty to the kingdom.

 _This is ridiculous…_  he thought venomously, throwing himself in an overstuffed chair with a grunt. He understood his position as heir to the throne very well; he was schooled on it since a young boy. However, he didn't know why the King and his Advisor deemed it necessary for him to choose a bride  _tonight._  In his own opinion, he had plenty of time to decide on marriage; he found there were other issues, more pressing issues, that he should deal with; such as preparing for his coronation. Of course, he knew he couldn't ascend the throne until he had taken on a queen but…

Letting out an angry noise, Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. What was even more irritating was that his father thought him one to shirk his duties. Stationing a guard inside and outside his chambers was not a necessity. He would attend the ball, be perfectly charming to the ladies, and dance with a few. Why, if he really had to choose, he'd choose one that was pretty enough and would keep out of his way; he had no intentions on settling down as a content and domestic husband.

Sighing, he heard door open and glanced up; it was time to be fitted for his wardrobe. Casting an arrogant look over the man's own attire, he stood up with a roll of his eyes; what a bother…


	5. Fairy Godfather

His opportunity was trickling by.

Scowling at the door, Elliot once more looked out the window, at the sheer drop down; there were no limbs or ledges to scale. His only way down risked a broken leg and injuries he just couldn't afford. Stepping away from the ledge, he looked towards his bedding.

Walking over to his bed, he ran a hand on the sheets, before shaking his head; there was no way those would hold his weight. Looking around his room, he also found that there wasn't a place to tie the sheets, except the insecure door handle. Letting out a sound of disappointment, Elliot circled his room, trying the door handle every time he passed by in case it somehow came unlocked.

The walls were solid, the window too high up, and the door still locked. He didn't even have an object to ply it open. Muttering, Elliot threw himself on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

His best possible chance at leaving was quickly fading. Not that it mattered if he was outside his room, anyways. Judging on the fact that his step mother  _locked_ his door with suspicion that he would try to leave, she would also station a Watchman or two to keep an eye on the house and for him.

Sighing, Elliot flipped on his stomach, before reaching down the side of the bed for his bag. He had packed it the night before, after finding out about the ball. He had been excited, thinking over and over on just how he would leave and what he would do for the rest of his life. Of course, that hadn't been the first time he had entertained such thoughts; they were what usually lulled him to sleep, with dreams of another life.

Elliot stacked his hand under his chin, staring at his bag. Oh, he hadn't given up; he wouldn't waste worry over the unfortunate turn of events. In fact, he should have expected this. His step mother had crushed most of his other dreams, why allow this one to live?

A sigh escaped his mouth, his lids closing out the candlelit room.

He didn't even notice the glittering sparkles appearing in his room, nor how they rapidly gathered. However, he was forced to notice the near blinding light as more appeared and cumulated together.

Letting out a gasp of shock, Elliot turned onto his butt, scrambling to the head of his bed.  _What in the world…?_  He thought with bewildered puzzlement, blue eyes wide and mouth gaping.  _Maybe it's some sort of insect… like fireflies. Or the cousins of them, anyways…_  he tried to rationalized, though the idea was quickly thrown out the proverbial window as the lights clustered into a shape that looked like… a human.

And, as the light dimmed down and the sparkles disappeared, it turned out that was very much the case.

"What are ya doin', loungin' around, ya bum?"

Elliot blinked. There, where the sparkles had been, stood a rather large, grizzly man. His arms and legs were as thick as hams, his hair cropped short and pitch black. His sideburns were at the same length as the hair on the top of his head and trailed down into a thick, bushy mess of beard that nearly reached his collarbone. He wore a blacksmith's apron that hung to the top of his large thighs, and dark leather pants. Burn marks and scars riddled his arm and a particularly gruesome burn rested upon his cheekbone.

All in all, Elliot found that the man was rather intimidating.

The man, a blacksmith Elliot presumed, frowned before looking around the room. A snort escaped him before he walked over to the window. The blonde watched mutely, unsure if he had fallen asleep.  _What a peculiar dream…_

"Ya just gonna stand there, slack jawed n' all, or ya gonna speak?" The graveled voice grumbled in amusement. Elliot swallowed hard and worked his mouth to try and find his voice.

"Eh, yes." He responded lamely, still in quite the shock. When the burly man lifted an eyebrow, Elliot flushed.  _Get yourself together, Elliot._ "To the speaking, that is." He amended, face hot as his stupidity.

Remaining at the head of the bed, Elliot watched the man warily. "Who are you?" That seemed to be a sensible question. "What are you doing here?" another sensible question.

"Ya's fairy godfather."

"My  _what?_ "

Obviously, sensible questions didn't necessarily mean sensible answers. Elliot blinked. Oh, he knew of the fairy godparents. His nurse from when he was a child told stories about them. Apparently, a few children were gifted a fairy godparent at birth that helped them in times of need. Of course, he had always believed them for what they were; stories.

The self-proclaimed fairy godfather waved an impatient hand before gesturing towards the window; the castle was even brighter now that the sun had completely set. "Questions late'r, Elli-"

"Elliot," he corrected. He detested the nickname  _Elli._

Giving the blonde an amused, curious look, the burly man continued. "Elliot. Ya wantin' to get outta here, yeah?" The man waved his hand around in emphasis for 'here'. "Well, I can get ya outta here. O'course, there be one condition." This time, he waited for a response.

_Of course there is a condition. When has anything ever came without strings?_ But Elliot decided to humor this man; if the other could really grant him the freedom he so dearly craved, he was willing to jump through a few hoops. "What condition?"

The burly man's grin gained a bit of slyness as he leaned heavily against the wall. From his belt, he produced a blacksmith's hammer and ran his finger down it absentmindedly. "Well, in order for ya to get ya freedom, without gettin' caught that is, ya gonna hafta attend that fancy ball."

Elliot blinked. Well, that made no sense. "In order to completely leave this estate and my step mother, I have to attend a ball… where my step mother  _and_  the guards are currently participating in?" This guy was an idiot. Narrowing his eyes. "I don't see how that's going to aide in my freedom. Why can't you just… sparkle me out of here? In fact, if you're able to get me to the  _ball_ , then why not just at the kingdom's border or even the courtyard?" He couldn't help the slightly hint of exasperation tinting his tone; this guy was on the brink of insane, if he hadn't already tumbled over the ledge.

His fairy godfather winked, before aiming his hammer at Elliot; the blonde flinched in return, sure that the man was going to toss the heavy looking tool at his head. "Oh, ya won't be attendin' in those rags. Naw, ya gotta fit in. Lesse see here…" squinting his eyes in concentration, he did a funny wave of his hammer, causing sparks to fly as though he hit burning hot metal.

Elliot began to feel tingling. It started at his toes, trailing up his legs, his torso, down his arms, up his neck, and over his face. The weird feeling soon enveloped his whole body and he felt himself growing warmer. Looking down in his body in fear, he saw his clothes melt, twist, stretch. The color brightened, changed, flickered, as though it couldn't decide what hue to remain. As he watched his pants and shirt turn into a long, flowing dress of the very color of blue that his eyes held, he saw something blonde creep over his shoulders. Gasping, his hands reached up to his head, where his messy blonde hair was replaced with long, wavy locks.

In a near panic, Elliot scrambled off his bed to the small table that sported a water basin and a mirror. Picking up the mirror, the boy let out a shocked noise.

"What- How- Why-" His voice was rather loud and a bit pitchy. Swallowing, he let the mirror drop to the table before turning around to throw a scowl at the burly man. "You've made me into a girl! What kind of sick, twisted man are you?!" He shouted, hand reaching to the table to grab the basin. He hoped his aim was true.

The man, instead of looking contrite, let out a hoot of laughter. "Nay, ya only  _look_  like 'em girls. Ya still got ya bits and lackin' them other parts." Elliot looked down, only faintly relieved to find his chest flat, even under all the ruffles and frills. "'sides, it ain't permanent. Naw, it'll end by midnight tonight, I reckon." Squinting his eyes again, the man looked as if he were considering something before pointing the hammer again.

Elliot believed his flinch was completely justified as glass slippers encased his feet. Fortunately, there wasn't a heel, as he had seen Drizella and Anastasia waltz around in. Of course, this small detail wasn't enough to quell the boy's fury.

Sparks escaped the hammer once more and Elliot, quite frankly, had  _enough._  Tossing the basin as the sparkles gathered around him, he had just closed his eyes against the blinding light as he heard it clatter against the opposite wall. He felt extremely disappointed that it hadn't struck his intended target.

When the light had finally died down enough for him to look around, he realized he was inside a lavish carriage. The interior seats were a rich red, the walls pristine white. On the seat opposite from him sat the burly man, apron and grimy attire gone, now dressed in black formal attire. His hair was also neatly groomed, his beard braided neatly. He grinned. Elliot scowled.

"Where are we? I don't recall owning a carriage like this." He truly didn't enjoy this fairy godfather but, after a peek through the carriage window and seeing trees, he wasn't going to complain now. His chance for freedom was but a white, carriage door away.

"Oh, this be one of 'em lovely pumpkins I see growin' in the back." He crowed as he patted the wall firmly. "It will do, for now. Just like them clothes and hair, it'll be gone before ya know it. That is, at midnight." He reminded. Elliot crowded more into his corner as the stranger stretched out his legs; oh, he couldn't  _wait_ for his opportunity to leave.  _I've waited this long…_  he reminded himself, calming the itch to jump out. "Same with them mice, I should add." Elliot narrowed his eyes. His mice?

"Why must I go to this ball, anyways?" He growled, arms cross, nearly sulking in the corner. Lady Tremaine would have to be  _blind_  to not notice him, even with his hair now long and downed in a dress.

A chuckled escaped out of the man's mouth, easily audible over the clattering of the carriage over gravel; they must be near now, if the path was no longer dirt. "Well, that there is a secret. Now, now, don't narrow them blue eyes at me. Ya don't have to stay 'ery long. Just go in, greet that prince with all the rest of 'em girlies, 'n then ya can leave. Simple, yeah?"

Elliot's eyes lit up at a loophole; this man wouldn't make it past the front doors, who's to say Elliot actually did meet the prince? He could walk in and then, right back out the back door.

"O'course, that magic I placed on ya, it's charmed." At the deadpanned look Elliot was giving him, the burly man threw back his head in a roaring laughter. "Ya thought ya could slip one ov'r me, eh? Naw, if ya don't meet that prince and try to leave before, that magic will disappear." When the blonde didn't lose his spark of relief, the man leaned forward with a wide grin. "Dress 'n hair leave, ya just be ya. And them guards, they know ya. Ya won't step foot outside 'at castle without ya pretty dress and long hair."

Elliot's face dropped. "What? That's hardly fair! Why must I meet this prince, anyways?" He growled, jutting out his chin in a hint of defiance. "What has he got to do with me leaving?"

Instead of answering, the man leaned his head out the window before hollering, "We're here!" Elliot blinked and butterflies began to squirm in his stomach.

The carriage slowed to a stop and a greeter opened the carriage door. Elliot was quite ready to remain inside the white and red interior inside, but large, beef hands nudged their way underneath his arms and promptly lifted him out of the carriage. Letting out a noise of protest, he squirmed until finally, he was set on the ground.

Winking, the burly man settled back into the cushions. "Have fun,  _girly._ 'n remember; midnight."

Elliot scowled at the man, before glancing hesitantly at the greeter; the plain faced servant simply stepped away from the carriage and gestured up the steps, where a couple of disinterest guards watched.

He didn't move yet. Instead, he stared up the stairs, quelling his nerves, before glancing to his side. The carriage had already rolled away; his fairy godfather wasn't anywhere in sight. He could just walk away, leave this whole kingdom behind.

A tingle started at his toes.

Sighing, Elliot moved towards the steps, careful to not step on the hem of his dress. He would go in, mutter his greetings, and leave. He would be gone before midnight, with enough time to leave the populated town still in disguise. This could work.

Nerves steeling against the flare of confidence in the plan, Elliot entered the castle.

 


End file.
